I've had this remarkable 'painting' hanging above my desk
for thirty years. Depending on my mood, I still see something
new in it.
Painted by 'Lathrum, 1979'. He used nothing but smoke
In some mystical alchemy by which fire was changed
Into the most elemental art, at once both what it intends
And what you intend it to be.
Something restless and riven is in the ashen grays and black
That rise and fall and swirl like wind roiling dark water.
Or perhaps it is Creation, the moment when void became light
In a storm between the stars.
But tonight it seems anything but seascape or celestial divining,
Something darker, preternatural and gravely malevolent rising up
In agony from a deadly depth.
Not a single straight line or angle to suggest a point of reference.
You must take it all in at once and let it take you where it will,
Which now is somewhere different than the last time you looked.
What shifts is your own perspective.
The spider doesn't move and neither do I, both holding on now
And staring up into the abyss.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 362 times
Written on 2010-12-16 at 15:07
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for thirty years. Depending on my mood, I still see something
new in it.
Untitled
Above me, a spider hesitates on the aptly-untitled canvasPainted by 'Lathrum, 1979'. He used nothing but smoke
In some mystical alchemy by which fire was changed
Into the most elemental art, at once both what it intends
And what you intend it to be.
Something restless and riven is in the ashen grays and black
That rise and fall and swirl like wind roiling dark water.
Or perhaps it is Creation, the moment when void became light
In a storm between the stars.
But tonight it seems anything but seascape or celestial divining,
Something darker, preternatural and gravely malevolent rising up
In agony from a deadly depth.
Not a single straight line or angle to suggest a point of reference.
You must take it all in at once and let it take you where it will,
Which now is somewhere different than the last time you looked.
What shifts is your own perspective.
The spider doesn't move and neither do I, both holding on now
And staring up into the abyss.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 362 times
Written on 2010-12-16 at 15:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Lawrence Beck |
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ngaio Beck |
